


Quis sum

by MilayaMilenZeal



Series: Long Live the Queen [29]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety, Celebrations, Confusion, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M, Post-Game(s), identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 06:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11076321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilayaMilenZeal/pseuds/MilayaMilenZeal
Summary: M.E. 786There’s never been any question to Regina about who she is… until this one moment…[Companion to "Memento Mori". Read that one first.]





	Quis sum

**Author's Note:**

> Well, by popular demand... enjoy.

Regina knows when the year M.E. 786 rolls in almost immediately, though it does take her a few days before she becomes aware of the actual significance of the year in general. It isn’t until she spots the banners of pure black and the silvery emblem that she recognizes all too well, and the words upon them that it all hits home and socks her right in the gut.

It’s been 20 years since the dawn was returned…

Which meant that it was 20 years ago that Noctis Lucis Caelum – the man she now called “Father” – had given up his life to save _everyone else_.

Just thinking about that made her want to break down, but she held it back, because _hell no_ was she going to let anyone know she was getting this worked up over something like this. Okay, sure; it _was_ a big deal, but no one had to know that she was this touchy over this… she doesn’t need everyone knowing that.

As the year continues on, though, Regina almost wants to cry several times over, for multiple reasons. One of the reasons is, of course, the fact that, despite all the stories she’s been told, she knows almost _nothing_ of the man she calls Father, but also because she saw how it was affecting her Dad. If she figured it out after only a few days, then surely her Dad had also noticed…

And sure enough, whenever they happened to pass a celebration by, she’d notice how her Dad’s expression would fall, just like how she’d seen it happen when she was barely 10 years old. Now, however, she has a better understanding of _why_ it happened…

Which only makes it worse now that she has that knowledge…

And that’s one of the reasons why she spends so much time hunting now. She just doesn’t want to see her Dad in such pain… and she knows that her being away is probably doing more harm than good, but the last thing either of them need is one of the two bursting out in tears because of all this crap… and she doesn’t want to be that person.

Thankfully, her Dad seems to be okay with that, and doesn’t throw much of a fuss whenever she says she’s going out hunting. Which is good.

That is, until he suddenly calls her just as they’re setting up at a haven for dinner asking her to come back home by August 30.

 

“August 30?” she repeats curiously into her phone with a small frown. She can’t remember anything specific having ever been planned on that date, so she’s a bit confused about this sudden decision. “…Yeah, I think we can make that… is something wrong?”

The last bit is added as an afterthought, because, really, why else would her Dad suddenly ask that of her and her friends?

“ _No, sweetie, nothing’s wrong… just…_ ” Her Dad pauses then, and she worries for a moment, but then he adds: “ _I’ll explain when you get here, okay?_ ”

Surprisingly, her Dad actually sounds… excited? She hasn’t actually heard him be _this_ excited since he first took the Regalia for her first ride in decades.

“…Okay, now you’ve got me curious, Dad… We’ll be there.”

“ _Great. We’ll see you then, princess. I love you._ ”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

She then puts her phone back in her pocket and goes back to inform the others that they have to be home on August 30 because her Dad has something planned. The reactions are mixed, but they all seem interested in whatever he’s got planned and so no one objects to her declaring that they’re going back by then.

However, as they get ready to catch some shuteye, Regina feels like there’s something in the back of her head that she’s forgotten. Something… important.

…Oh well. She’ll remember if it was _really_ important, she figures.

 

Once August 30 rolls in, they get their behinds in gear—at six in the morning, cuz why the fuck not?!—and make their way back to Regina’s house. By the time they arrive and step into the house, it’s 10:30 on the dot.

When they do, though, Regina is, in one word, shocked. The whole living room is decorated with more decorations than she’s seen in years, clearly meant for some sort of birthday party, and she can smell the party food from the kitchen and see Iggy working (figures…), and Gladio and Iris are there, too.

“Good morning~” Domi greets, ever the excitable bundle of energy, not seeming to be either fazed or surprised by the decorations. But what does make him pause is the smell as he stops to sniff at the air. “ _Mmmm~_ Something smells _good_ ,” he then proclaims with a smile.

As Libby heads to the kitchen to aid Ignis and Terry flops onto the couch (where she starts devouring the chips on the table), Regina goes up to her Dad and asks, a little hesitant: “…Um… are we missing something, Dad?”

“Well… I suppose so…” her Dad admits, and it seems like he’s really sorry that this is something that, obviously, has just flown right over her head. “I probably shouldn’t have postponed it as long as I have… but, today is your Father’s birthday.”

…her Father’s… birthday…?

She gets the feeling her eyes are like comically wide as the news hits home, but that’s when the worry suddenly hits her and she casts a glance around the room, wondering if anyone heard him say that. This subject’s never been breached with everyone around since she was 6, when she had shouted at Iris that she didn’t need a mother and that she was fine with just her Dad and… well, her “Papa” as she’d called him back then. No one had asked and neither had she brought it back up again, and she was a little worried about where this might go…

Thankfully, her Dad was there to reassure her that everything was fine as he places a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetie; they know.”

That lifts a weight off her shoulders and she’s finally able to relax and smile (genuinely) back at her Dad.

“Um, wait…” a familiar voice suddenly says and Regina looks over to Domi as he frowns lightly in confusion. “I thought your birthday was in October, Mr. Argentum…?”

Regina almost bursts out laughing, mostly because Domi’s being way too formal— _yet again!_ —but she doesn’t bring that up as she instead answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“It is, but this isn’t for him, Domi. This is for Father.”

“But isn’t…?” Domi starts to say with his finger pointing at Prompto, but before he can even finish the question, a realization seems to come to him with the speed of the Regalia slamming into a fence at full speed and he blinks, and then his eyes go wide. “Oh… _oh!_ I-I see… sorry, I didn’t—”

The hesitant words make Regina laugh, but she waves it off quickly and says: “It’s fine, silly. C’mon; let’s have some fun, kay?”

And have fun they do; even though she can tell that it hurts her Dad to talk about the matter, despite how many stories he’s told her. This time, though, it’s not just him doing the story telling; everyone has one or two stories to tell about her Father. Stories that either her Dad knew nothing about or things he’d been too embarrassed to talk about. Like that thing in Costlemark that Iggy brings up in which her Dad had been pulled out of a bad situation and had quipped about being saved by a prince.

Regina almost laughs out loud at that alone, and she almost immediately has a line in her head that she would’ve used if she’d been her Father in that situation, but she doesn’t bring it up because surely her Father wouldn’t have been _that_ cheesy…

But then Iggy went and said that her Father had said in return to her Dad’s quip “Go back to sleeping, Beauty.”

…the _exact_ words that Regina had just thought up on the fly with _no_ prior knowledge to the event.

And something… actually she doesn’t know _what_ just happened, but it was like something’s just… clicked…? Does that make sense…? She doesn’t know but… even though she’s laughing as much as her friends are, something’s changed…

Something’s… different…

All the snacks are, apparently, her Father’s favorites, and everyone’s indulging themselves on them—even her Dad!—but with every bite she takes, she feels like it takes more and more effort to swallow every bite. The snacks are good… _really_ good, and she can see why her Father liked them, but the scary thing is… these are all _new_ to her… and yet she feels like she’s had each and every one of these snacks before…

There’s no presents, no cheesy birthday songs, and somehow that makes it worse… because it hits home then that, despite it being her Father’s party, he isn’t here with them to enjoy it. And that hurts far more than it probably should.

She wishes he was here with them… wishes for some sort of miracle that will let him walk through the door as if… as if he never left at all…

Six… if only…

…yeah… if only...

 

When dinner is served, Regina feels her stomach roiling for reasons she can’t explain. It’s all her Father’s favorites again; Grilled Wild Barramundi with Mother and Child Rice Bowl, and she should be enjoying it, because hey, how can you go wrong with fish?

And yet she’s just… poking at her rice and pushing it through the sauces as if it holds all the answers in the world. Of course it doesn’t, but she does it anyway.

“Princess?” The single word makes her jump and turn to her Dad so quickly she almost hurt her neck. “Are you okay?”

She lets out a small, confused sound, before she forces herself to respond to the question before they can worry about her. “Ah, y-yeah, I’m fine,” she says, and she slaps herself mentally for stammering as she scoops up some more rice. “Just… I wish… I just wish he could be here with us… yanno?”

Not a complete lie, as that’s still something she wishes dearly. She doesn’t want to bring the mood down, but she can’t help it… it just… it _hurts!_

“I’m certain that Noct would’ve preferred to be here with us, as well,” Ignis says then, and she looks up to him, even if he can’t see her do so. “However, it won’t do to worry about things we cannot change… as much as we wish things were different.”

“…Right…”

It’s all she can get out. She goes back to her food, and she forces herself to swallow every bite, even the vegetables that line the fish, even if they seem almost… awful, somehow. Which shouldn’t make sense, because she’s been eating her veggies for years now and they’ve always been bearable before, so why do they taste so awful _now?_

When everyone’s finally finished their dinner, Ignis suddenly asks if everyone wants dessert. Iris replies first, saying she definitely does want dessert, and Gladio laughs at his sister’s enthusiasm. Domi then asks if dessert happens to be source of the smell he’d picked up on when they arrived. Libby isn’t one for dessert normally, but Terry urges her to take it anyway, because hey, they’re guests, after all.

…but Regina says nothing.

As Ignis goes to collect the dessert tray, Regina just looks at her empty plate and bowl, and she tries to keep her emotions in check, because whatever’s going through her head right now is seriously messing her up, big time. She can’t bring the party down, or else she’ll ruin it for everyone…

Just as she thinks she has herself under control again and she takes a deep breath, Domi is talking. “ _Mmmm…_ Oh. Em. Gee, those smell _soooo_ good!”

Regina blinks once, before she regards the tray that Ignis had set on the table when she wasn’t looking… and her body almost freezes entirely, and she doesn’t even know _why_.

The small cakes round with small indents along the edges, baked to perfection and its scent is almost overwhelming. It was a perfect composition as usual, since _duh_ , it’s _Ignis_ who did the cooking… but… something about the cakes seems… almost familiar. Which is ridiculous, because she _knows_ that she’s never even seen these cakes before! Anywhere!

Terry is saying something then and swiping one of the cakes and biting down on it, but Regina doesn’t even hear what her friend’s saying. She can barely even move, and only does so when everyone else’s already picked up at least one cake. When she has the cake in her hand, her fingers are trembling, but she somehow manages to suppress it to the point where it wasn’t immediately visible.

Everyone’s eating, she knows, and everyone’s enjoying them, too… and yet she can’t bring herself to bite down on the cake. She hears Domi enjoying it _very_ much, and hears his heel tapping rapidly against the floor, but, even still, she can’t do it…

It just… just…

“Hey, Regina, aren’t you going to eat yours? They taste best when they’re hot.”

Somehow she hears Iris calling out to her, and she looks up to her. She looks worried, and Regina supposes that makes sense, especially the longer she looks at the older woman, so she eventually looks away, back at the cake she’s still holding. She doesn’t understand why, but the small thing looks almost… ominous, as if she knows there’s something disgusting hidden in there that she’d never eat otherwise…

Still, she murmurs: “…right… of course…” before she takes a heavy breath, lifts the cake, and then takes a fairly decent chunk from it.

The moment she presses her teeth down on the texture to chew it down into a paste so she can properly swallow it, it’s like the taste explodes upon her tongue and rushes through her body. It makes her shiver and she almost moans at the taste, as she shuts her eyes, letting the flavor rush through her as she breathes in… but then something else hits her as she swallows and her eyes open slowly…

She doesn’t recognize the feeling, and yet she does… it’s like energy rushing along her veins like a burst of magic that she just absorbed from a spire, even with her physical strength draining from her and leaving her almost pitifully weak… as she looks at the cake in her hand and it feels like she’s just tasted something she thought she’d never get to taste… something she had actually tasted before…

She wonders if this is what “nostalgia” feels like… but if that’s true then why does _she_ of ALL people feel a sense of nostalgia when she’s never eaten anything even remotely like this cake before!? It doesn’t make sense and it sends her mind reeling and her stomach roiling as she tries to make sense of it…

But when she shuts her eyes for only a brief moment, and regards the cake again after, something else appears in her mind… and it’s something she can place even less than the sudden nostalgia (if that’s even what it is)…

A voice… speaking in calm tones with an accent she can’t place… a woman, she thinks… or no wait… a girl… it’s too young to be a woman…

A pair of eyes… bright blue and kind… lit by a gentle smile and framed by hair that is a white-gold color…

A flower… small and frail… and as blue as the seas…

_…a sylleblossom…_

She blinks again, and her breath catches, but she’s not sure if anyone’s heard it.

“…berry juice… is it?” The words are distant and she barely catches the tail end of the conversation.

“Correct; it does in fact contain berries.”

“Oh yeah? What kind?”

Regina’s mouth moves before she can stop it from doing so;

“…Ulwaat berries from Tenebrae.”

Silence follows those four words, but Regina doesn’t even notice that it’s because of what she just said, because her attention is entirely on the cake in her hand and the slight juice that’s trickling out from it. She doesn’t know why she knows that the juice is from Ulwaat berries—hell, she’d never even _heard_ of Ulwaat berries until then!—but she knows that it’s a distinct taste that can only belong to those berries. She recognizes—wait… _how even?!_ —the taste of the juice and how it seems to enhance the magical attributes that coils through her body and surges along her veins, making her skin pulse in anticipation.

She’s never felt this way before, and yet it feels scarily familiar… and it’s terrifying…

She almost doesn’t hear Libby as she’s being addressed, barely registers the suspicion laden question about how she knows of the berries, or even where they’re from…

Regina doesn’t know how to answer… but she knows she’s trembling, though not if it’s from the sensations of her pulsing magical essence or because she’s trembling from fear… but either way, she knows they can tell she’s trembling…

“…I…”

She can’t get anything else out, and she can feel her trembling growing worse, to the point where she believes even Iggy would notice it (shocking, since he’s blind…). Regina tries to talk several times more, but she can’t get anything out beyond that only, quiet word… until the cake slips from her fingers.

She can’t take it anymore…

She abruptly rises up to her feet, doesn’t look at anyone as she offers some sort of lame excuse she doesn’t even remember giving, and then she turns and heads for the stairs to return to her room. She really shouldn’t… but she can’t face them as she is now.

But before she can reach the stairs, there’s a firm but gentle grip on her arm and makes her stop. Her Dad’s voice barely manages to filter through her head then. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says quickly, not looking up because she’s afraid what her Dad would see in her expression. _She_ doesn’t even want to know what she looks like… “I just got a headache, really. Sorry if I ruined everything…”

She doesn’t really want to… but she needs to leave… she can’t stay there…

“Sweetheart…” Her Dad’s hand squeezes her arm, gently, but she doesn’t want it – doesn’t _deserve_ it…

…wait… what…?

“There’s no need to be afraid…”

“I’m not afraid,” she says immediately, and she wonders absently how he came to that thought… but maybe it’s because she feels her whole body tensing up.

“Then why are you running away?”

“I’m not _running away_.”

A lie, she knows… but she doesn’t want to _deal_ with this right now! She doesn’t _need this!!_

“Yes you _are_ , princess,” her Dad presses, and he puts a hand on her shoulder then. “Sweetie, you don’t need—”

It happens so fast… she doesn’t even realize what she’s doing until it’s already happening…

As the scream of “I’m _FINE!!_ ” flies from her mouth, she whirls around and snaps out her arm to slap those of her Dad away and this makes him stumble back.

Regina blinks her eyes once, and it’s almost like everything around her is distorting into something… some _where_ … she doesn’t know, as her Dad loses his balance and tries to stay upright by spinning his arms… but it’s no use and he falls with a shout… with a scream as Regina can only watch in horror…

She hears the shouting of her Dad’s name… knows that she should do more than just stand there… but her terror has her rooted to the spot and she can’t even move… with the wind messing up her hair and… and… wait… huh…?

She’s having troubles staying upright because she’s forgetting to account for the wind and the momentum and she instinctively adjusts but it doesn’t change what’s happened and she can only stare as her Dad’s image fades almost immediately along with his scream and her stomach is twisting and turning and she feels _sick_ … there’s a voice from behind her of which she can’t identify words, but the voice is taunting her and blaming her… because she pushed him… _she did_ …

She… she…

She’s vaguely aware that there’s someone screaming… but her head is so far away that she can’t even realize it’s her own screams she’s hearing or that she’s clutching at her head to try and make sense of things… as in her sight she’s turning to the voice, horrified, confused, sad, miserable… and so… _so angry!!_

But there’s yellow eyes that regard her and will likely haunt her for she doesn’t know how long…

…she’s never been more happy when darkness crawls in and drags her down into unconsciousness, even if it is kicking and screaming and wailing…

She doesn’t even hear the screamed phrase “I’m sorry” that had escaped her mouth almost endlessly crack and then break off as her body crumples and she falls to the floor…

 

…is she dreaming…?

It’s a question she vaguely asks herself before she smashes in the face of whoever just tried to cut her down. She doesn’t even look up at the sickening crunch of metal and bone as she stabs a dagger into the neck and then throws them away. There are more, so she doesn’t bother to check for sure if she’d finished it properly, as those around her close in around her.

She screams and snaps her arm out, catching one in the side with her sword and knocking it away enough so that she can have some space to breathe, and she grabs a spear and makes to throw it – but then it breaks apart into shards of bluish white and she chokes as the weight of it disappears from her fingers in an instant. She jumps aside from an axe aimed for her neck and tries to grab her sword, but she can’t find it, even though she _just had it!_

There’s no time to question it as one cocks a gun – a sub-machine gun – at her and she has to run in an arch to avoid the spray. Somehow she ends at its side and she kicks it— _hard!_ —and then she takes its gun and uses it to mow down the ones still coming after her, even though the kickback and the weight feels so unwieldy and heavy in her hands.

She runs then, dropping the gun quickly because she’s emptied its entire clip and she’s not gonna waste her time reloading. She just grabs the nearest lance she can, wincing at the unnatural weight and keeps running. She ducks into crevices in the wall when someone comes down the hall, because she can’t afford to be taken down here. There’s too much at stake…

There’s a voice that echoes through the hall, but it’s distorted and she can’t make out entirely what’s being said, but she wants to scream and curse at the voice, but she can’t afford to speak too loudly, because if she does, she knows she’ll be attacked by the beasts that haunt the hall without delay.

Breathing is labored, and yet somehow she’s not discovered, for which she’s glad, but she doesn’t spend long thinking on it as she hurries along down the halls, through the abandoned rooms and almost tripping over discarded clothes laying haphazardly along the floor. She’s hunting for something, she knows, but she’s forgotten what… she just knows that it was important to find that which she was searching for… because… because…

The thought’s fuzzy and it’s unclear what anything is then… but then there’s a room with a sign of a bed over it and a breath of relief flows from dry, chafed lips and a pale hand pushes the door open and then rapid steps move into the room and then the door is shut firmly, after confirming no one was inside, of course.

It’s like looking through a lens and just seeing it all happen without any real awareness of action as heavy breaths echo through the room. Heavy footfalls fill the room as they carry their owner through the room and to the bunk beds, just to sit down for a moment and just think… sleep is not going to be possible, after all…

Movement from the side causes a flash of panic, but a sigh of relief is released when it turns out to be a mirror. A cracked mirror, but a mirror regardless. When moving over, head tilted, weary blue eyes look back, and there’s dark bags are under them, and dark black strands are dropping and hanging along the skin of the neck. There’s dirt along the pale skin, along with several crusted wounds, trails of blood smudged from where it had been wiped away… or attempted to.

Dark clothes are messed and torn, and there are cuts visible through the tears, and a mental note is made to use a potion… later.

Heavy limbs drag its owner to the nearest bunk and a groan escapes upon landing onto the dingy, flimsy mattress. Breathing is difficult, due to stress, fear, and anxiety, and as arms rest on the knees, the head is hung low as deep breaths are inhaled, then exhaled, limbs are trembling. Eyes blink, slowly, as the left hand is lifted and turned palm down…

Dark, weary blue eyes regard the intricate black band that sits snugly around the ring finger, before the thumb moves to run along the bottom, turning it softly and letting the dim lightning play off the ring.

Suddenly there’s a scream—a familiar one—and it makes breath catch in the throat, and in an instant, the sound of feet slamming against the floor fills the air, before the door is thrown open and then he rushes out, darting the nearest corner and up the stairs, cursing and snarling as another scream fills the hall. He shouts something he doesn’t quite remember what it was he shouted, but he doesn’t have the chance to think back on it, as the scaffolding under his feet cracked and gave way, and he cries out as he hits the floor back first.

He groans in agony as he rolls over onto his stomach, struggling to not whimper—because _fuck_ if he was gonna let that _asshole_ get him down any further!—as he puts his hand under him to push himself up… only for his hand to slip out from under him and making him yowl as his chin hits the floor.

Another curse escapes him as he pushes up on his elbows to keep himself up and rubs at this chin… but then he spots the red liquid that adorns his other hand and his heart almost stops.

He doesn’t want to… he _really_ doesn’t… but he looks anyway… and he very nearly breaks down…

Broken words escape him as he scrambles up to his knees, and reaches out with a tentative, shaking hand, taking light hold of the shoulder and then shaking softly, before shaking a little harder as a choked sob he can’t quite stop escapes him.

And for the first time in what feels like hours… he can make out words again…

“No… no please… please, Six, no… don’t… don’t do this to me… please don’t do this to me…! _Prompto…!_ ”

And then his eyes snap open and he almost bolts up with a shout, but he chokes it back. It takes a long time before he’s able to figure out just what happened, but when he does, he exhales in slight relief as he reaches for his head and runs the fingers through his unruly hair. He reaches out, scrambling for his phone that should be on the nightstand, and finds it after a moment. He squints at the far too bright screen and groans.

It’s WAY too early, but he’s up anyway, so he might’s well get out of bed and get ready.

When he steps out of the bed, though, he realizes he’s still in his clothes, and he groans a bit at that, wondering how tired he must’ve been to fall asleep in his clothes like that… he should’ve _at least_ ditched the jacket before hitting the hay.

Well, at least he didn’t forget to take off his shoes.

He heads to the bathroom for a moment, leaving the light off, and splashes his face to wake up properly. Once he’s sure he’s awake, he peeks up at the mirror, and snorts softly when he sees his hair hanging around his chin.

“Pff… I need a haircut… maybe I’ll ask Ignis in the morning… later today, whatever,” he mumbles as he looks around for the hair gel. It takes a moment to find it and he scoops up a small handful and starts silently styling his hair again.

Once done with that, he quietly leaves the room behind and goes down the stairs. It’s almost pitch black out, and that’s no real surprise, so he flips on a light, and then goes to the couch to plop down. He wonders, absently, if he should waste some time playing King’s Knight… but point 1, the others would be mad he went ahead of them, and point 2, he really just doesn’t feel like it anyway.

So he just sits there, first leaning back against the couch, head on the back of it and looking up to the ceiling, thinking, before his dream comes back to haunt him and he frowns. He hasn’t had that dream since Lestallum, and he wonders why he had it tonight of all times, when they’re about to head for Altissia tomo—later today. He also doesn’t remember his earlier dream involving his Father’s ring, either… or that final scene…

 _Six,_ that had been disturbing and unnerving and just _all_ kinds of creepy…

He groans and moves to lean forward, elbows on his knees and head down. He doesn’t need this right now… hell, he doesn’t need this _ever_ … but certainly not _now_ … when things are about to fall into place.

“Still up, buddy?” calls a chuckling voice then, and Noctis blinks as he looks up, regarding the familiar blonde in the doorway.

He hadn’t expected Prompto to be awake, even though he gets up much earlier than him normally, and he’s pretty sure his surprise is showing on his face. However, it’s not like he can say anything about being up early, since he’s been up himself way earlier than was normal for once.

“…couldn’t sleep…” he admits as he looks back down at the floor. Much as he likes looking at Prom normally, right now, he needs to make sure his earlier dream doesn’t invade his thoughts so he doesn’t end up worrying the blonde. That’s the last thing he needs or even _wants_ to do.

Prompto walks over then and settles himself next to him, with enough space between them that they’re not really touching, but he can still feel the other’s presence in his personal bubble. And he appreciates the thought; touching is not something he feels up to at this moment. Maybe later, once he’s sorted out his thoughts again.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

The offer is expected, and appreciated, but he can’t say it. No, because that would only worry Prom, and he’s not going to let that happen…

“No…”

“Kay.”

Prompto’s leaning back on the couch and Noct peeks over from under his bangs without letting it be obvious (something he’s good at). He almost winces at the bandages that are wrapped around his head, another reminder of his idiocy from the day before.

Six, he really should’ve been more careful…

“…your head okay?”

“Huh…? …Oh! Yeah, yeah, it’s fine…”

Meaning it was likely still pounding like crazy… Prom’s easy to read like that, but he doesn’t say that to the poor boy. He really looks like he’s trying so hard not to worry Noct.

Why ruin that for him?

“…cool.”

Noct sits up a bit then before he scooted over so he can rest his head on Prompto’s shoulder. Prom, of course, doesn’t mention it and just leans his head sideways until his own rests on top of Noct’s. And like that, they stay for the longest time, quietly enjoying each other’s company… for however long they have left.

He knows this can’t last forever… he’s known it for years… ever since that first, clumsy kiss and sorry excuse for a ‘date’… he’d known all along, and yet he’d gone with it all this time. It was stupid and silly, and if Ignis knew he’d probably suffer a lecture of… oh, maybe an hour or two about his responsibilities and his duties and yadda yadda yadda…

Ugh, Six, was it _so_ much to ask to be… _normal_ for just a few years of his life…

Just a few years where he wasn’t “Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum” and could just be “Noct”… just your everyday run-of-the-mill college student with everyday problems that didn’t revolve around having to worry about one’s (royal) duties to the world…

Normalcy… that’s really all he ever wanted… ever…

“…nervous?”

“…mm?” He can only hum, because, really, what was that question about?

“Bout tomorrow… We’re heading to Altissia first thing in the morning, after all…”

…Oh.

Of course Prompto would ask about that… of course he would…

How is he supposed to answer that, though? He knows why Prompto asks that, of course; the poor blonde’s worried that, once they get to Altissia and they’ve done what they needed to do there, that he’ll just be abandoned. Not that he will be, but if there’s anyone out there who worries more than Noct does, then it’s Prompto.

“…are you asking me… or yourself?”

Because, really, the question _could_ just as easily been aimed at Prom himself, rather than Noct.

“…lil bit of both…?”

Noct wants to laugh and ask if he’s asking or saying that, but he doesn’t do it. He doesn’t even crack a smile as they continue to sit there, just basking in each other’s presence. Of course he knows that this’ll end once the morning fully dawns, but Noct doesn’t want to think on that. Doesn’t want to think on anything revolving his duty…

…but he knows he has to…

Prom’s right; once the morning comes and everyone’s up, they’ll head for Altissia to meet with Luna and then… well…

“…it’s not…” The words are out before he can tell himself ‘no’, and he can’t stop, either. “…like I can just say… ‘I need more time’…”

“…we can ask Iggy to delay…”

If only… yeah, if only…

“…you know we can’t…”

“…right…”

They couldn’t do this anymore… they can’t keep running forever… It’s time to face reality and deal with the situation before it gets any worse…

They _had_ to do this… _had_ to…

“…I’ll miss you…”

The words are sudden and almost make Noct jump, but the words and their meaning keep him rooted and he frowns up at Prom from under his bangs.

“…don’t say that…”

“But—!”

“Don’t.”

He doesn’t give the little idiot the time to say anything else as he lifts his head and lightly kisses his cheek. He’s not usually one for mushy stuff, but Prom looks like he needs it.

“Stop acting like you’re never gonna see me again… or that it’s gonna be the end of the world…”

“…sure feels like it…”

“ _Promptoooo_ …”

Prompto’s laughing when Noct starts poking him in the side, and Noct had almost forgotten that the blonde was incredibly ticklish, and with the reminder provided to him, he pounces on the opportunity (and Prompto) despite the blonde’s attempts to move away. Before long, Prom’s giggling and laughing on the couch, with Noct hovering over him and smirking and laughing at the sheer joy that shines in Prom’s eyes. But then the light fades and the smile cracks and Noct realizes that Prompto’s thoughts are straying… and not in the good way.

“…Noct?”

“…yeah?”

The blonde tries to talk, the words are half-forming, but they don’t come out no matter how much he tries, stuck in the back of his throat. When he tries to breathe in too deeply he almost chokes and Noct can see the tears beginning to build in his eyes. And while Prom’s always been a big crybaby, Noct has a feeling he hasn’t even noticed that he’s beginning to cry, so he shushes the blonde as he wipes away the forming tears, while simultaneously kissing him to his forehead, his eyes, his nose, his cheeks… if only to stop his tears…

“… _please…_ ” The word’s choked and sounds broken, and it hurts to hear that pathetic sound. “…promise me I can stay with you… that you won’t forget me… _please…_ ”

The words and the look on his face almost break Noct’s heart, and he has to make a concentrated effort to not show any of the pain he, himself, feels, if only to not make Prom feel any worse. Because, really, he’s _such_ a crybaby… but he loves him for it anyway, and the thought brings a smile to his face.

“Of course I won’t, silly,” he murmurs softly, before he leans in. he pauses, though, but he doesn’t understand why, so he shakes it off and then kisses Prompto full on the lips, and it makes the blonde beneath him whine pathetically. It’s not a long kiss by far, and there’s not even any tongue, but it’s not meant to, anyway, and he breaks away when Prompto hiccups amidst the quiet sobs he’s been trying so hard to hold back. “How could I ever? _I love you…_ ”

Prompto’s able to smile then, even though it’s a watery one, and after taking a deep breath to stabilize his breathing, he whispers so quietly that Noct has to strain to hear him. “I love you, too, Noct…”

Noct smiles at him again, before he gently nudges Prompto to scoot further back so that his back is pressed against the back of it, giving him the space to lay himself down next to him. “Go to sleep, Prom… we gotta get up early tomorrow…”

“But… what about…?”

It takes Noct a moment to realize what Prompto’s trying to say, because he doesn’t finish the sentence, but the slight fear in his gaze and the way his eyes dart to the doorway is enough to tell him what worries him.

“I don’t care… let ‘m see for all I care…”

He’s so tired of having to hide this… so tired of dancing around Ignis and Gladio to make sure they don’t see something they ‘shouldn’t’… and besides, he’s almost certain that Ignis already knows anyway…

If they’re going into this by morning, then he wants to do away with all these secrets he’s been keeping for so long… he sucks at it, anyway…

Prompto looks like he’s about to object again, but Noct softly but firmly tells him to go to sleep again, and then Prom gives up, shutting his eyes after placing his arms along Noct’s shoulders.

“I… I love you…”

Noct snorts softly at the lazy words, and he’s sure Prompto misses that, but Noct makes damn sure that he doesn’t miss his next words.

“ _Go back to sleeping, Beauty…_ ”

Prompto smiles in response to the words, and he stays smiling even as sleep takes over. The peaceful expression makes Noctis smile and he lazily reaches out with his right hand to tuck some hair behind the blonde’s ear – only to stare as he realizes that his hand is covered with a glove.

How odd… he’s supposed to wear a glove on his _left_ wrist… not the right…

Curious about the sudden shift, he moves slowly, carefully, so he doesn’t wake Prompto, and clicks the glove loose before tugging it off.

There’s nothing on the palm that he can see, so he shrugs and reaches out again – only to pale when he sees the mark on the back.

The mark is unfamiliar… and yet he knows he’s seen it before, yet he doesn’t know why or even how.

He starts to tremble, and he knows Prompto will notice if this keeps up, so he quickly but carefully scoots off the couch and out of Prompto’s arms. He needs to digest this, and he doesn’t want to worry the blonde any more than he already has. Once he’s standing next to the couch, he moves his other hand to the mark, moving the fingers along the mark to trace the dark lines.

…then he notices something else…

…why are his fingers so thin…? And… why are the nails so long…?

They’re almost like…

…like…

“…no…!”

The word’s choked, terrified, and he’s almost gasping for breath, unwilling to believe what his mind is telling him. He almost runs towards the bathroom, nearly tears the door open and almost slams his fist down on the light switch as he hurries toward the sink, where he grabs hold of the porcelain material as he looks into the mirror, regarding his own reflection.

“…!!”

No sound escapes shocked lips, as hands fly up to muffle any noise that may’ve potentially been made, eyes are wide and unbelieving, and the face they’re set in is pale, ghostly pale. There’s a shake of the head, of denial, of disbelief, of so many emotions that don’t even have a proper name. Panic sets in, breathing gets labored, and hands fly up into ebony strands, tugging and pulling, and it hurts, revealing that this is not a dream.

How is this possible? What has happened?! _None of this makes any sense!!_

There’s a pounding headache, and a whimper escapes, and a question begins to surface and then spirals around and around, until it’s the only thought that’s discernable.

_Who am I?!_

Legs tremble and shake, and then they carry their owner out of the room. The light’s flicked off on instinct, and shoes are snagged, and then the door is thrown open and then the light hits. There’s a hiss, but not for long as a whistle is produced, then sounded, on instinct alone. When the large bird arrives, there’s no hesitation as its mounted, and then turned around and kicked into a full-speed gallop.

A half-choked cry escapes, but it’s mostly swallowed up by the wind and the sound of heavy talons striking rocks, then sand, and then pavement, and it continues for so long that the sun is well into the sky by the time it’s even remotely noticed. But even then there’s no stopping, not for another hour, at which point the bird is finally brought to a halt, a choked wail escaping its rider. The bird’s then silently dismounted, which the bird seems to find odd, so a hand comes up to stroke its beak and head, which seems to help, thankfully.

This can’t be explained to a bird… as smart as they are…

The bird’s gently dismissed, left to its own devices, and as it leaves, a hand flexes and then there’s a familiar weight resting in the palm. A heavy breath, and then the arm is reared back, and then thrown forward, the item held in the hand released to let it fly through the air. There’s a whistle of the wind weaving along its material, and then a solid metal tang as the material connects to the rocky walls that it had been aimed for.

A mere blink and another flex of the hand is all it takes for a burst of blue crystalline shards to shift perspective entirely, and then it’s only a matter of scaling the rocks, which takes little time or effort.

Once up there, thoughts continue to spiral around and around, like a never-ending cycle and its causes such a migraine, but no movement is made as solemn, steely blues regard the horizon and all that lies beyond, even as there’s a vibration and song coming from the pocket. It simply isn’t important at the moment…

The question that’s at the forefront of the mind _is_ …

_…who… am I…?_

 

However long it’s been, it feels like ages when another presence comes up onto the rocky outpost, but there’s no response offered, even when a quiet call is made. The words don’t even register… it’s not important…

No matter how often the voice calls out, there’s no vocal response… not until there’s a touch on the shoulder. There’s no tensing or jumping of the body, even though the touch was not expected, and, finally, heavy feet shift and then turn the body around, dark, empty eyes taking in the worried gaze in those staring back, framed by golden hair that hasn’t been touched by gel or even a comb yet…

It’s a face that’s familiar… but two different words are struggling for to be let out… and both want out simultaneously…

So in the end none do…

A slow blink is the only thing that can be managed… and a tear is released as frustration, confusion, despair, and so many other emotions come together and manifest in the single drop of water…

Two steps forward is all it takes, and then the head is dropped forward to land on an oh so familiar shoulder, eyes shut as breathing becomes slightly labored. Arms come around the back and shoulders, offering support… but it doesn’t answer the question…

_…who am I…? …please… tell me who I am…_

“…I’m sorry…”

What the words are for is not sure… maybe for running off and worrying… maybe for the confusion running rampant… it’s just not known…

“Sssh… it’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay… c’mon… let’s go home… kay?”

The words are soft, quiet, but they’re heard anyway… and the words resonate… hard…

“…home…” The whisper leaves parted lips softly, before the head nodded slowly. “…yeah… I… I wanna go home…”

_Home… where… where is home…?_

She knows it’s the old house in the middle of nowhere, big and empty, but nice and _theirs_ … yet he knows that home is a great place, large and cold, filled with people and technically _his_ … but where is home… truly…?

Heavy steps carry them down, and words slip from lips without real knowledge what’s being said… and there’s no objection to being led into the backseat of the familiar, black automobile… and as the vehicle starts to move, eyes are shut with a heavy breath, as all emotions finally catch up and drag away the sense of consciousness that had once inhabited the body…

But the questions don’t stop..

She doesn’t understand these feelings of pain that rip through her chest… and he can’t understand why there’s hesitation in all he does around _him_ …

She wants to know who she is… he wants to know what has happened to him… there’s so many unanswered questions…

_…who am I…?_

**Author's Note:**

> So... did that explain things better, peeps?
> 
> \--Chapters up for vote;--  
> -Tsunami; when the seas just come up and swallow you whole  
> -Gaia's Wrath; because sometimes the earth is just angry with you  
> -Imagination; dreams are cool… because anything can happen there (direct sequel to “Relaxation”)  
> -Gift; giving is always more satisfying than receiving  
> -Mega Flare; light is always nice, but too much can be just as damaging as a lack thereof  
> -Hellfire; when there’s literally not enough water to quell a fire


End file.
